Eustace Marchmont: A friend of the people

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Her voice broke, and she turned her head away for a moment, but he said softly—

“The angels of God rejoicing over one sinner that repenteth? Is that it, Bride? For you are a veritable angel upon earth!”

“Ah no!” she answered quickly, “do not say that—do not think it. Holy and blessed as the angels of God are, we have yet a higher vocation—a higher calling to live up to. It is a human body, not an angelic body, that our Lord took and sanctified to all eternity. It is for fallen human creatures, not for the angels, that He came down to die. And it is glorified human beings, changed into His glorious likeness, who are called to live and reign with Him in glory unspeakable. I never want to be an angel. Ours is a more truly blessed and glorious calling. To be His at His coming. To hear His voice, and be caught up to meet Him in the air. To be ever with the Lord—kings and priests for ever and ever! O Eustace! we cannot conceive of such a thing yet; but the day will come when the kingdoms of this world shall become the Kingdoms of our God and of His Christ, and He shall reign for ever and ever!”

The face she turned upon him was as it were transfigured already, and it seemed to Eustace as though for a moment a curtain lifted before his eyes and showed him a glimpse of some unspeakable glory which lay beyond the ken of mortal man. For the first time since he had known her he began to understand that what had seemed to him as the outcome of a mystic fanaticism might be in reality the development of some purer spiritual understanding than he had been able to attain to. Lying for days at the gate of the unseen world as he had done, he had learned that many things formerly slighted and almost despised were the very things which brought a man peace at the last, and which glowed and strengthened beneath the mysterious fire of peril that turned to dross and nothingness the wisdom in which he had trusted, and the staff upon which he had tried to lean. Having learned this much, he could believe there was more to learn; that even when fear was cast out and faith reigned in its stead, there was still progress to be made in the heavenly life. He did indeed believe that the Saviour had died for the sins of the whole world, and that He lived to make intercession eternally for those who claimed the Atonement of His blood. But now he began to understand that for those who truly love Him and walk every step of their lives in the light from above, there is a vision of unspeakable and unimagined glory always open before them; and that, leaving those things that are behind, there is a continual pressing forward to the prize of our high calling in Christ—the one overmastering desire so to live as to be His at His coming, and be used for His eternal purpose of establishing His Kingdom on the earth.

“Bride,” he said softly, after a long pause, “you must teach me more of this Kingdom. I had hoped to do a great work for our fellow-men in this land, and even now I may live to do something; but I can at least seek to understand God’s ways of working, which are not always man’s ways; that if it please Him to raise me up, I may consecrate my life, first to His service, and secondly to the service of man. Abner truly told me I was beginning at the wrong end when I first spoke to him long ago. I did not understand him then, but I begin to do so now. I may never see things clearly, as you do, in the heavenly light; but at least I do see that our first aim and object must be to do God’s work on earth in His way; not blinded by our own wishes and ambitions. The fate of poor Saul Tresithny will always be a warning and a landmark to me. He might have grown as wild and reckless without my teaching—with that I have nothing to do—but I did teach him dangerous doctrines of all sorts, and his life and death are a standing memorial to me of what such teaching may lead to. I trust the lesson has not been learned in vain.”

“And I think his death was a very happy one,” said Bride softly. “I think I am glad he died with us alone. He loved you, Eustace. And I am sure if any of us had our choice, we should always choose to be with the being we love best at the moment of our death. It was so with him. I think it was rather beautiful and wonderful how he rose and came to you when the hand of death was upon him. Poor Saul!—but we need not grieve for him. Abner has ceased to grieve, and is more peaceful and happy than I have seen him for many years. ‘To depart and be with Christ’ was so much better for him than anything he had to expect upon earth. He learned his lesson at the last—I am sure his end was peace.”

After that there was no reserve on any subject between Eustace and his betrothed wife. Bride was able to speak to him from the very depths of her heart, and as she elevated and strengthened his spiritual perceptions, so did he in another fashion impart to her such knowledge of the things of this world as were beneficial to her in forming her mind and character, and helping her to obtain a just and accurate outlook upon the affairs of the nation and the events moving the hearts of men. They acted as a check one upon the other; helping, strengthening, teaching, and encouraging—growing every day nearer in love and in spirit, finding fresh happiness and closer unity of soul each day as it passed, and always upheld by the thought that a few days more would see their union hallowed and blessed in the sight of God—a thought so unspeakably sweet and precious to both that they seldom spoke of it, though it was never altogether out of their thoughts.

Mr. St. Aubyn was to perform the ceremony, with the cordial consent of Mr. Tremodart, who was glad to be spared the task himself. The Rector of St. Erme had been much at the castle when Eustace lay in so critical a state, and the young man had profited much from his instruction and counsel. Now he came frequently to see both Bride and her betrothed husband, for he was one of those who rejoice to see true spirituality in all its forms, and to be certain before hearing pronounced any solemn and binding vows that they are spoken from the very heart.

The Duke went about looking very happy in those days, and his manner to his daughter was more gentle and fatherly than it had ever been before. The whole castle was in a subdued state of excitement, whilst a lawyer from London arrived, who was to remain till the completion of the ceremony and see to all the needful papers. But with these things Bride felt little concern, and went about with a tranquil face, thankful to be spared the bustle of preparation which would have been needful under ordinary circumstances, but which was quite superfluous now.

A bridal dress and veil were, however, quickly provided, and Bride was content that it should be so, knowing that her white would be pleasing to the eye of the sick man. She herself was calmly and tranquilly happy, spending much time beside the patient, and the rest in earnest musings and meditation, or in visits to the poor, amongst whom so much of her life had been passed.